We All Fall Down
by Vicky-V
Summary: Unitied they stand, divided they fall. Down and down and down. ArthurxGwenxLancelotxMerlinxMorgana. Violence, character death, slight description of sexual activity, dub-con, slight blood-play, suicide.
1. Chapter 1

**Pairing:** ArthurxGwenxLancelotxMerlinxMorgana

**Notes:** **Poly, slash, femmeslash, major angst, violence, character death,** some description of sexual activity, dub-con, slight blood-play, suicide (bolded warnings apply to this chapter). Future fic. Small spoilers for episode 1x01, 1x05, 1x08 and 1x12.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in connection with BBC's Merlin, nor do I make any money writing this fanfiction.

xxx

**We All Fall Down**

Part I

Gwen barely slept in her own bed anymore. Instead she went to the chambers of Morgana to be greeted by a tired yet kind smile. Morgana never turned her away, so Gwen didn't think she knew anything of what she did as she slept. If she did, Gwen doubted Morgana would let her near, nor anybody else.

It didn't happen all the time, but that scared Gwen even more because it was the not knowing. Most nights things were fine. They'd fall asleep, in each other's arms and Gwen started to relax, thinking that she would have another peaceful night.

But sometimes it came. The voice. The voice which wasn't Morgana in any way because it was rough and low and threatening like a ravenous predator crouched in the shadows, half a second away from leaping upon its pray to tear it's flesh apart and spill its blood on the ground. It filled the room, spreading into the walls and the shadows, and spoke of the same things every time. But each time it still terrified Gwen. It made her body shake as she curled up as small as she could, hoping that whatever was hiding- behind the curtain, under the bed, right behind her- wouldn't find her, even though she felt it was speaking right to her. Her own breathing shuddered and ripped through her lungs and throat while her heart raced so fast she feared it may burst at any moment. Gwen lay beside Morgana, shaking and crying, and watched her lips move. They were manipulated by something which made Gwen hate it for touching Morgana like that.

It spoke of Arthur. The golden king. He still chased the shadow of his father, still kept looking around for an approving nod or a loving smile. He searched everywhere for it, in every movement and every decision he made. But it never came. Uther's back was still turned to him, even as a rotting corpse underneath the ground. Whenever Arthur looked around, he saw not his father but what he had left. Camelot had grown into something great under Arthur's rule, but there were still those who despised the new king for his Pendragon blood. They were the ones who had lost mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, lovers and all sorts under the executioner's axe and the consuming fires which were controlled by Uther's words. They lurked in the shadows, with one eye on their own business and the other on Arthur, always watching. They watched for that one moment of weakness, that one mistake which would allow them to spread their own hatred into the rest of Camelot. That one mistake of Arthur's would be bent and distorted, shattered and then built up again into the most twisted thing imaginable. Then he would be hunted, just as those of magic were not so many years ago. And they would catch him. They would catch him and Arthur would be torn and burned and sliced, all while he screamed in agony just as those of magic did. And, just like those of magic, his screams, cries and pleas would be laughed at and ignored.

It spoke of Guinevere herself. The maidservant who became queen. Her father would be so proud to see what she had become. She had the respect of those from the lower classes, those who near-broke their own bones and almost drowned in the sweat from their own brows to keep themselves and their families alive. But there would always be those who resented her because of the clothes she wore, the way her hair was styled and how strangely right it looked for her to be at Arthur's side. Sheer dumb luck, they said. Gwen had also earned the respect from those of the court. They suddenly realised that she had always carried herself well and adapted so quickly to her new role as Queen of Camelot. But there would always be those who whispered around the corners about what Camelot must be becoming if the king took a servant for his queen. She wore the clothes well and held her shoulders in the right way, but her fingers would always be rough from all those years of hard work and her skin would always be that which had been smeared with dirt and oil. What was Guinevere? She was the peasant queen, the queen of peasants. She didn't belong anywhere. So she was nothing.

It spoke of Lancelot. The peasant knight. He hid himself behind his own ambitions to protect those he cared about and those who couldn't themselves because to acknowledge the truth would destroy him. For each raider taken down, ten more crawled out of the shadows created from their own twisted minds and they continued the pain of the world. Crops would be trampled, homes would crumble, people would be ripped apart and children would burn. Lancelot deluded himself thinking he could help them, but who else was he fooling? He was clinging to the dreams of the most idiotic child. Those dreams should have been torn apart and burned along with his parents.

It spoke of Merlin. The sorcerer whose origins were unknown because his mother would not speak of them, as though her very voice was held captive should she try. He had such power inside him; enough to destroy both the world of mortals and that of magic and rebuild it to whatever his desires may be. He could rearrange the stars, manipulate the tide to consume the land and call up the fires of the underworld itself to make his very own hell. But he wouldn't. Those thoughts didn't even cross his mind because he had no idea of the true powers which filled his body, lying in wait. Whenever he came close to discovering it, the power he held over life and death and the very creation of it, he turned the other way to ran as far and fast as he could and didn't look back. He ignored it, pretended it never happened and managed to fool himself for just a moment. Then it leapt in front of him once more and he ran again like a terrified deer. It was because he's a fool. A fool who knew his own destiny but destroyed it because he allowed himself to become too human. His heart forbid him to destroy one child and now he couldn't save anybody. His conscience would not allow the tyrant king to die and so the hatred for the Pendragon bloodline continued to fester and grow. Merlin would truly realise all those things one day. But by then it would be too late.

It spoke of Morgana. The vessel. Her mind was shattered with the confusion and fear she had carried for so long. She piled the huge weight of it upon her shoulders and then walked into court with a straight back and everybody thought everything was okay. But it wasn't. It was far from okay. It would never, ever be okay. She fought so hard, trying to keep it away from the rest of Camelot so she may protect them. But while she too carried great power she was also too human. This time it was by the rule of Uther Pendragon, which forced her to violently deny who she was, fear it, loathe it, try to drive it away and lock it up into the dark, forgotten places of her mind. But sooner or later her body must rest and then she was open. What she tried to hide spilled out and what she tried to hold back struck violently.

The voice knew what they were and it knew their destiny. It was one they couldn't stop, no matter how hard they would try to fight. They would be ripped apart, no matter how tightly they tried to cling to each other, how far they tried to reach and no matter how much they screamed. Destiny couldn't be stopped. It couldn't be escaped. It knew exactly where they were and it was coming for them.

So often Gwen wanted to run and find Merlin, or Arthur, or Lancelot. Or two of or all of them. She knew if she found one, she was very likely to find another. They were very into the habit of sharing each other's beds. Just as she was with Morgana. And them. Gwen wanted to run as fast as she could and not stop until she found them and pulled them back to Morgana's chambers because there must be something they could do to help her.

But she didn't dare. There was something about that voice. It was deep and knowing, as old as the earth and the sky itself and Gwen feared what may happen if she left Morgana alone with it for just one moment.

When Morgana woke she remembered nothing. Somehow there was something about that voice which caused a wipe in Morgana's memory and she woke as though nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. So Gwen had to compose herself quickly because she couldn't bear to cause her worry. But Morgana had known her too long and too well. She could see so easily through the masks Gwen wore, shattered through them so effortlessly no matter how thick they were and how many she put on. But when Morgana asked, Gwen couldn't tell her what was wrong. She just couldn't. Something clutched at her throat, something which made her blood run cold in her veins and her mind rush. Then she was shaking and crying again, unable to force a word through her lips, not to Morgana or anybody and she was so afraid.

xxx

It suddenly struck Arthur that it had been a while since he had slept with Merlin beside him. That was the same time he realised it had been a while since he had seen Merlin at all and Gwen, Morgana and Lancelot gave similar answers when he asked after him. They didn't exactly have any schedule or rota, neither did any of them keep track of where they slept, who with and when. But for Merlin, who had always been so affectionate and loving, this was worrying.

He had vaguely realised the lack of Merlin at first, but hadn't paid it any mind after that. Arthur just assumed he had become caught up in some work. When Merlin inherited Gaius' work after his passing not too long ago, he was almost constantly caught up in projects and experiments; mostly for medical purposes. Before his disappearance, Merlin had been working on finding a solution for the problem concerning Gwen.

When they had sex, Morgana didn't care about the risk of bearing a child. Whatever she did Arthur didn't know but Morgana having sex never resulted in her getting pregnant. Arthur didn't question it, assuming it was some sort of magic. That was something he didn't understand and, as just a man, never really would.

Gwen, however, was a different situation. At first Arthur would not let them penetrate her if it weren't with fingers or tongues. But time after time Gwen would come to him, crying and apologising because she was bleeding again. After some time, Arthur found himself becoming desperate, feeling the cold eyes of his dead father glaring at his back again, scorning the fact that Camelot still had no heir. So he allowed for Lancelot and Merlin to penetrate her, always with the hope that Gwen would bear a child because of it. If she should, it would be brought up believing Arthur to be its father, they understood that. They would practically be an extended family anyway.

But, after so much time, still nothing. Merlin found one solution, but he had come to Arthur with a grim look on his face before he even spoken of it. The solution Merlin found was that of a fair trade. A life for a life. Arthur immediately forbid it. He would never pay such a high price for an heir. He would not let any child of Gwen's suffer a life without its mother.

Morgana once offered to bear the child, but Arthur refused that as well. Any child of Gwen's would inherit her darker skin, he said. Should Morgana carry the child, that wouldn't happen and everybody would know. Morgana frowned and made comments about his pride, but Arthur would not change his mind. But he knew she ultimately listened to him, at least. She could have easily chosen to disobey him and halted in doing whatever it was which made her willingly barren. Morgana remained that way.

When he went to search for Merlin, the first place Arthur tried was the physician's quarters, knowing that to be where Merlin often shut himself up. But he was to be disappointed. Opening the door, he recognised the shelves which covered practically every wall, stuffed with ingredients, thick books and loose sheets of paper. The work surfaces were cluttered with equipment, candles, more ingredients and more books in what Merlin always argued was an organised mess. There was practically everything stuffed inside that small room. But no Merlin.

He found him eventually, after a long search which took him through most of the castle and the surrounding area and threw him into more and more of a panic with each moment that passed and each place he tried which didn't have Merlin in it. Try as he might, Arthur couldn't think what might have lead him down into the dungeons. Perhaps it was desperation and running out of places to look. And that strange feeling of suddenly just knowing.

But that was where he found Merlin. There was a large pile of stone next to a passageway; one Arthur had vaguely noticed before but he had never known what was down there. It had always been closed off and his father had always forbidden anybody from going down into it. But it was open now and, as Arthur descended the stone stairway, he heard Merlin's whispers, uttering words he didn't understand. A large chunk of stone rose from the pile at the entrance and drifted down the passageway. When Arthur approached, treading carefully down the stairs in the gloom, he saw Merlin bent over a wall which came up to his chest. He was resting one hand on the stone which had just floated down and settled on top of the wall, muttering quickly in a heavy, tired voice. That alone puzzled Arthur, then he saw in the flickering torchlight which lit the passageway that there was already another wall in front of the one Merlin was building.

Something wasn't right. Arthur could feel it, chilling his bones and near-freezing his blood.

"Merlin."

When Merlin turned, his eyes were wide, like those of a startled animal. Even in the gloom, with the flames lighting his face, Arthur could see how pale he was and how deep the shadows underneath his eyes were. He was thin. Merlin had always been on the skinny side, but the more Arthur looked at him, the more he realised Merlin was too thin.

"What are you doing down here?"

Merlin's lips thinned as he looked to the ground and then slowly back up towards Arthur. His hand slid off the stone and when it did Arthur could see that it had become a solid part of the wall Merlin was building.

"What's that for?"

When Merlin looked him right in the eye, Arthur felt another chill pass right through his body and clutch at his heart. Merlin was tired, he was fighting to stay awake and swayed a little where he stood. But his eyes held something frantic, wild and desperate about them.

"You don't hear it, do you?" Merlin asked. His voice was gruff and scratched at his throat as he forced the words out between his lips.

"Hear what?"

A crazed smile flickered across Merlin's face, so briefly Arthur blinked and almost missed it. Merlin's glowing golden eyes flared with something bitter and that was when Arthur realised that the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach was fear.

"Of course you don't hear it." Merlin's voice filled the passageway and caused the flames of the torches to flicker even more and make the shadows dance wildly on the walls. "You're just a man, Arthur, I forgot, so of course you don't hear it. You're very lucky. You know that, don't you?"

"Merlin." Arthur took a step forward but then stopped. He could feel his patience becoming thin. "Tell me what you mean by that."

Merlin's eyes looked back to the wall again and they were suddenly filled with a hatred that Arthur had never seen in anybody. Not even in Uther when the slightest mention of magic reached his ears.

"There's a voice in my dreams," he said. "Each and every night. And it says such horrible, twisted things, Arthur, that I can't even begin to-" Suddenly Merlin fell against the wall and he covered his mouth with his hand. Merlin's chest heaved and his eyes were wide. Arthur started to move forward again, but Merlin raised his other hand to stop him. He moved his hand away from his mouth, took some deep breaths of the stale air around him and continued. "It says so many things. It knows about us. About what we are. It shows me our destiny and it's filled with blood and horror and such sadness I can hardly bear it. And it's the reason, Arthur, it's the reason why Gwen will never bear your child. Nor mine, nor Lancelot's, nor anybodies. Morgana can't either. But I'm not sure if she knows of that yet. I don't think there's anything I can do about it."

"Is there something of magic down there?" Arthur asked. "Do you know what it is?"

"What is down there is nothing," Merlin growled. Then he screamed at the wall; "it's _nothing_!" His shout echoed off the walls of the passageway, which suddenly seemed so much smaller to Arthur.

"Merlin." Arthur reached out, but didn't touch him. He didn't know why. "If you're hearing things in your dreams, how will a solid wall stop it?"

"I'll find a way to seal it," Merlin said. "I just need to block this entire passageway, then I'll be able to seal it to make sure it's completely trapped once and for all."

Arthur looked back to the entrance of the passageway and then to where Merlin was leaning against the wall he was building. There was still a long way to go. Then he looked at the already completed wall behind the one which was being built and suddenly came to realise why Merlin had been missing for so long.

"How many walls are there, Merlin?"

"This stretches all the way to the end of the passageway," Merlin told him. "But I don't know how many. I stopped keeping count a while ago. Twenty? Thirty? Fifty? I don't know. But I've done the hard part. When I did the first few, it tried to stop me. It told me things, it tried to strike and burn me, but I did it. Shouldn't be too long now."

"Merlin, stop this. Come away now. This is foolish." Arthur grabbed at Merlin's wrist only for him to violently twist away. Merlin flattened his back against the wall and glared at Arthur, looking surprisingly threatening in the gloom.

Arthur tried; "we miss you."

"I'm doing this for all of us," Merlin said. "You can never understand this, Arthur. Not truly. But please at least try to trust me."

Something heavy sank in Arthur's chest. "I do."

Merlin nodded and, still with his eyes locked on Arthur, whispered some words of magic. Another large piece of stone came flying down the passageway and took its place on the half-finished wall, only just missing Arthur as it passed him. With that, Arthur knew the matter had come to an end for now. He was King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. But Merlin was somebody he never had much control of. And never would.

Hours after night fell that day, Arthur went back down to the dungeons and found Merlin asleep on the stairs of the passageway. Since he had left, Arthur could see Merlin had built a few more layers of wall but still had a long way to go.

He stepped forward with the intention of carrying Merlin away. Then he found himself thinking better of it but couldn't understand why.

xxx

Battle rushed all around him. The shouts as weapons were thrust forward, the clang of metal and the screams of pain whirled around him, brushing against his ears but not allowing him to properly hear it. He had to keep moving fast, otherwise he would find himself with a blade in his back. As Arthur ducked, twisted and dodged he saw a blur of armour and flags and bodies and blood. His heart was racing, he could hear it hammering in his ears and his blood rushed wildly.

It was a battle brought on by the bonds of a treaty being broken and so armies clashed. In the heat of it, the only thing Arthur gave his concentration to were those he traded blows with, but every now and again he recognised other things his gaze happened to fall upon. Sometimes it was a dead body wearing Camelot's colours, which sent a new burst of hot rage through his body and caused him to fight harder for that person. Sometimes it was a wounded man and Arthur shouted for help for them. He kept catching glimpses of Lancelot and Merlin, both of them always occupied with an opponent. Arthur had always known he didn't need to worry about Lancelot, (although there was always still that little itching bit of concern), and whenever he saw Merlin he found he didn't need to worry as much as he would have thought. Merlin's battle experience still wasn't much in comparisons to Arthur's and Lancelot's, despite some of the deadly magic he could use. But whenever Arthur saw him, Merlin was doing well. Although Merlin wasn't always taken into battle, Arthur was glad he had ultimately accepted his request. Days before Camelot's army left, Merlin finished his wall. By the time they were ready to go, he was back to full strength. He was staying near Lancelot, as ordered, and once or twice Arthur saw their weapons glowing with a blue light to strike their enemies with a huge force.

The more of them went into battle, the more Gwen would worry. But Arthur didn't have time to think about that. She still had Morgana with her. She would be fine.

Then a movement caught Arthur's attention through the corner of his eye and, out of habit and the raw instinct to survive, he turned to see what it was. A dark horse raced through the battle and men of the Saxon army who opposed Camelot fell as it did. On that horse was Morgana, with fierce blazing eyes and a mouth set thin in determination.

Arthur felt so many things when he saw Morgana there and he felt them so quickly he barely realised they were there. He was angry she had disobeyed him, concerned that she had entered such a dangerous situation and hopeful that Lancelot and Merlin would also see her and work to try and protect her and fight alongside her as Arthur intended to. Loathed as he was to verbally admit it, Arthur was also proud that she had come and pleased that her sword work was good enough to strike down the Saxons.

Many men fell before Arthur and things continued to rush around him. He kept catching glimpses of Merlin, Lancelot and Morgana, sometimes fighting alone, sometimes together and always doing well. Sometimes he felt the press of Lancelot's back against his, the rush of Merlin's magic passing him and Morgana even found time to make comments about how she was still besting him.

When the shadows were beginning to stretch on the ground as the sun lowered, Arthur suddenly came to realise he had lost sight of her for longer than he would have liked. There was a sudden shout and the Saxon army retreated with promises to meet with Camelot again and have their revenge. Arthur picked his way through the mess of dropped weapons, torn armour and dead bodies, identifying those who were alive and needed help, shouting to draw attention to them. Then he found her. Morgana's face was pushed down into the mud, so deep Arthur was sure her head had been stamped upon. The clothes she wore and the ground she lay on were stained with blood, most of which come from various deep wounds in her back.

Arthur tried to rouse her. He called her name and screamed for help over and over again. But she didn't move.

xxx

The air was filled with thick smoke which billowed up into the sky from the fires which burnt the dead, returning their bodies to the earth. Anything which would be needed to passed onto their families or the ones who would succeed them had been taken but the rest was left to the flames. The air was heavy around those who stood, watching to recognise and honour those who had given their lives in Camelot's name. Many of them pressed hands against wounds or steadied themselves on each other, but all stood still and as straight as they could while the smoke and smell of burning flesh invaded their senses.

Lancelot barely noticed any of it. He, along with Sir Gareth and Sir Sagramore, were too busy trying to restrain Merlin, who thrashed wildly against their hold, trying to reach the fires and screamed through a raw throat as he did so.

"No! Let me go! I can help her! Stop it! I can help her! Please! Let me go!"

Merlin was reaching out towards Morgana's body where it lay, consumed by fire. The look in his eyes alone was so desperate and so frantic that Lancelot truly did believe Merlin would run right into the fire to drag out Morgana's remains if he should let him go. So Lancelot kept holding him as tightly as he could, struggling to keep Merlin from slipping away. Pleas for Merlin to be still fell upon deaf ears.

Lancelot glimpsed a flash of blond and red, then Merlin suddenly cried out, quickly and sharply, in pain. Then he was quiet and his eyes rolled back and closed as he fell forward into Lancelot's arms. Gareth and Sagramore backed away a pace or two, still watching Merlin warily should he suddenly wake up again and resume his struggles. While the situation slowly dawned on Lancelot, the only thing he was certain of was his own heavy breathing. Then he realised that Merlin lay still in his arms with his eyes closed but his chest was still rising and falling. Lancelot could feel it against him. When he looked up from Merlin, the blond and red were still there. It had been Arthur, who stood still, looking to the fires which burned the dead. In one hand, he held tightly at the hilt of his sword, which he had used to strike Merlin and knock him unconscious.

"Arthur." It was a slip of the tongue for Lancelot. He rarely addressed Arthur by name in front of others, especially in situations like this. It was always "sire" or "my lord". But this time it went unnoticed. Arthur continued to look out to the fires with his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and a grim set to his mouth which was absolutely furious. Then Lancelot saw more. He saw a cloud over Arthur's eyes which were a deep regret and how his lower jaw was set firmly to clench his teeth hard together. Arthur was putting every shred of strength he had left into remaining the brave leader everybody had come to knew him as. But Lancelot could see that all Arthur wanted to do was rip himself apart.

Lancelot spent rest of the time until they had to prepare to return to Camelot knelt at Arthur's feet. He settled Merlin on the ground, steadied him in his arms and rested his head against his chest. He kept checking to make Merlin was still breathing.

When Lancelot looked back to the fire, it was always to where Morgana lay and he felt the loss in his own heart grow even heavier. Something in his chest twisted painfully when he suddenly thought of Gwen, left behind and waiting for them to come back. What would they do? How could they possibly tell her?

He didn't know.

When they travelled back to Camelot, Lancelot went on foot and carried a still-sleeping Merlin on his back. Arthur went on horseback, holding Morgana's sword, which was wrapped in what he had been able to take of her tunic without disgracing her body. As their journey started to come to an end, Merlin woke up and cried into Lancelot's shoulder.

xxx

Should one of them leave for a while, Camelot wasn't the same. But with all of them gone Gwen found it absolutely terrifying. For most of her life, one of them had always been there; first Morgana, then Merlin, then Arthur, then Lancelot. Somewhere along the line it had become all of them. That was why, truth be told, Gwen hadn't wanted for Morgana to ride out after them. She wanted to keep Morgana by her side so she may have somebody to squeeze her hand, give that reassuring smile and tell her that things would be okay, just as she always would. But they both knew how dangerous the enemy was and how high Morgana's skills in sword fighting were. Sometimes she still sparred with Arthur or Lancelot and if she lost it was the outcome of a very close match.

Gwen had told Morgana to go after them because she knew how Morgana hated to feel helpless and left behind. She had faith in Morgana. She had faith in all of them. But that didn't stop her from wandering the castle, pacing Morgana's chambers and flinching each time she heard hooves clopping against the stone ground of the courtyard.

Finally, as night was starting to fall on the third day of waiting, Gwen heard the cries being shouted through the castle and Camelot's streets. King Arthur had returned from battle.

Gwen ran out, burst through the doors of the castle and hurried down the steps, only just managing to remember to lift her skirts so she wouldn't fall. Her heart was hammering fast and heavy in her chest, causing her whole body to shudder.

Then she came to a stop on the fourth step from the bottom. Arthur stood before her, his face set in a grim expression. Lancelot's head was hung, staring at the ground. Merlin was being carried on Lancelot's back, with his face pushed into his shoulder and Gwen could see his shoulders shaking. She looked at the returning knights, standing still and unsure, waiting for orders from their king. But he stood still, watching Gwen as she looked through the crowd again and again, becoming more desperate with each try. The hammering of her heart grew louder and louder and she could feel her chest ache as her breath quickened.

She wasn't there. Morgana wasn't there.

Gwen looked desperately to Arthur with her mouth hung open, ready to voice the question she didn't want to ask. That was when she saw that he carried in his arms a piece of cloth wrapped around a sword. That piece of cloth looked undeniably just like the tunic Morgana had worn when she rode out into battle. It was stained with blood. Tears built in her eyes, distorting her view of Arthur and what he held. But she could still see how deep with regret and sorry his eyes were when he looked to her and the way his mouth moved when he quietly said; "I'm sorry."

The stone stairs scraped at her knees through her skirts as Gwen's legs suddenly gave out and she fell. She slumped forward and felt herself tumble down the rest of the steps, scratching her hands and drawing blood as she did so. Gwen was only vaguely aware of a pair of arms gathering her up and holding her against something firm. There was a gloved hand running through her hair and a voice, Arthur's broken voice, trying to soothe her.

Nothing could. Gwen cried and screamed and shook her head fiercely as she tried to deny that Morgana was gone. Morgana had always been there for her. She always would be. So she wasn't gone. She wasn't!

She didn't care that she was out in the middle of the courtyard and that her screams seemed to echo off the castle walls. The knights were dismissed and Gwen pushed her face as far as she could into Arthur's chest because she didn't want to see them or others who stared. Gwen kept screaming and calling for Morgana like a terrified child, even while her throat felt so raw she was certain her own words were shredding it from the inside. Eventually her body tired and Arthur picked her up. Gwen kept clutching at him as she was carried inside. She looked out from him for a brief moment, searching for Lancelot and Merlin. Then she had remembered hearing Arthur telling them to go in ahead of them.

They were waiting in Morgana's chambers, just as she thought they would be. Lancelot lay on the far end of the bed with his arms around Merlin, who still had his face pushed into Lancelot's shoulder. Beside them lay Morgana's sword, still wrapped in a piece of her tunic. Arthur must have dropped it when Gwen fell, she guessed, so Lancelot must have picked it up before he took Merlin inside.

Lancelot gazed at the wall with the same far away and haunted look Gwen had seen in Morgana's eyes so many times. It was the look which came with knowing horrible things and never being able to forget them. When Arthur nudged the door closed with his foot, Lancelot seemed to snap himself out of it and look to them. Gwen wanted to see that gentle smile of his, but it didn't come and she understood why.

Without a word from any of them, Arthur settled beside Lancelot and Merlin, being careful to keep Gwen safe in his arms. When he was able to lie on Morgana's bed, she wriggled out of his grip just enough so she may stretch herself out, partly over Arthur and partly on the sheets. Between Merlin and Gwen was the sword, so she lay as close to it as she could and clutched at the cloth wrapped around the blade. She had thought Merlin was asleep because he lay so still but then he turned to face her. His arms went around her and his voice shuddered as he whispered desperate apologies into her ear. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and hushed him. Lancelot reached over Merlin to hold her hand.

Gwen didn't remember falling asleep. When she woke up, she found Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her. Lancelot sat beside him, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder. They both looked tired and drained of most of their energy. Gwen doubted they had slept much, if at all.

Arthur kissed her, quickly but gently, then Lancelot did the same before they silently left. Gwen understood. They had just returned from battle. There were things they needed to do.

"They wanted to wait until you woke up before they left," mumbled Merlin and he wound his arms around her a little tighter. "So you'd know they're still here."

"They didn't have to," Gwen replied, hearing how thick and heavy her voice sounded and was hardly able to believe it was her own.

Merlin kissed her shoulder. "They wanted to."

xxx

When Merlin vanished again, the day after they returned from battle, Arthur was unable to find him. He quickly lost count of the number of times he checked the dungeons, the physician's quarters, his own, the gardens and every other inch of Camelot. It sent Gwen into a panic, as it did Lancelot, although he was better at hiding it. Arthur sent him out to Ealdor to check for Merlin there, in case he had gone to the place where Will and now his mother, taken by illness a few years back, lay in rest. Gwen wanted to accompany Lancelot and Arthur let her, knowing she wanted to feel as though she were being of some use. There were those in Camelot who would start to whisper about that, but Arthur had better things to pay attention to.

They came back without good news. Merlin was still nowhere to be found.

The battle which needed to be finished was drawing closer, so Arthur threw himself into preparing for it. He had new weapons and armour forged and healers working late into the night to build up medical supplies.

When Camelot's army was due to ride out again within the next few days, Merlin came back. Arthur wasn't told about it. Instead he heard it from the mouths of gossiping maids as they walked close together in the hallways, carrying piles of clean linen. They were rounding the same corner as Arthur and by the time their eyes went wide and they profoundly apologised, he had heard all he needed to. Merlin was back.

He went straight to the physician's quarters and pushed open the door without giving any signal that he was there. The first thing he saw was Merlin jump where he stood behind a table at the far end of the room and stare at Arthur with eyes which were wide and surrounded by shadow. Just as they had been when Arthur had found Merlin building the wall in the dungeons. He hadn't slept at all.

"Arthur.." He hadn't been expecting anybody, that much was clear by how he sounded so unsure and how he watched Arthur wearily.

"Why did you leave?" Arthur snapped, suddenly feeling the rage he had tried to ignore over the past few days build up and spill over. All of a sudden he wanted to stalk over to Merlin, close his gloved hands over his throat and shake him hard. Because how dare he. How dare he leave like that, without a single word, after Morgana...

"I'm sorry," Merlin shook his head a little, still watching Arthur with wide eyes. "I know I shouldn't have and I'm sorry. It's just that... you would have tried... tried to stop me. And I knew I had to do this."

As he spoke, he leaned over the table and Arthur's eyes were drawn to it. Upon it he saw things he didn't really understand. There were books open all around Merlin and papers scattered wherever he could put them. There were jars of things Arthur didn't know the name of and other pieces of brass equipment. Short candles were placed around the edges of the table, some with flickering flames which only just missed the open book pages. In the middle of it all there was an old wooden bowl and something inside it which appeared to be a very small amount of dirt.

But somehow Arthur got the feeling it wasn't.

"What is that?" Arthur nodded towards the bowl.

Merlin looked down at it before he turned back to Arthur. "It's..." He drew his hand out, clutched the edge of the bowl and pulled it towards him. "Well, you'll see what it is soon enough. It's okay, Arthur, really. There must be enough in all this." He kept holding the edge of the bowl with one hand and gestured towards all the open books and papers with the other. "I'll be able to make everything okay again."

When Merlin smiled, Arthur shivered. He had seen that type of smile before, on the faces of dying men who were convinced they could see their loved ones before them as they took their last breath. He looked at all the books and pages again, paying more attention to what he could see by the candlelight this time. Most of it was writing, some scratched quickly, with notes scribbled at the side and some things were crossed out. Some of them had drawings, of people who looked as though they were asleep and others who looked as though they were waking up.

Arthur looked to the bowl of dirt again and felt something cold plunge into his gut. Suddenly his legs felt weak, his head was light and his stomach churned as he realised it wasn't dirt.

"Merlin..." When he tried to speak, his voice was quiet but rough. He gazed in horror at the bowl, its contents and Merlin's fingers which clutched the old wood the object was made of. "Tell me... tell me it isn't."

Merlin's mouth opened but no sound came out. His face had fallen, knowing Arthur had worked out what he was doing, so his clutch on the bowl tightened and he leaned over a little more, like a starving beast defending the first kill it had made in weeks.

When no response came, Arthur felt anger build inside him again. He clenched his teeth, bunched his fists and felt his shoulders rise before he said; "Is that Morgana?"

"You must let me explain," the words suddenly burst from between Merlin's lips as he suddenly pulled the bowl right to where his body rested against the table and held it there. He was still watching Arthur with fear in his eyes. "I don't understand why you're so angry. I'm going to make everything fine again."

"This is where you vanished to?" Arthur looked around again, at the books and pages which contained theories and spells designed to raise the dead. He didn't know where Merlin had gathered them all from, neither did he wish to. All those small bottles and jars littering the table were the ingredients outlined in the instructions, Arthur realised. And Morgana's ashes, which Merlin must have spent many sleepless nights finding and gathering, were all that remained of her. It was impossible to make a new person out of nothing, after all. "For..." There was a lump in his throat and he swallowed. But that only managed to make things worse. "For this?"

Merlin's eyebrows were arched. He looked unsure and scared. "I don't understand why you're angry about this. Don't you see? I'm going to make things right again."

Because he felt his legs alone wouldn't be able to support him much longer, Arthur leaned heavily against the table. Merlin pulled the bowl of Morgana's ashes away and held it close against him, as though it were his very life. Arthur kept watching it, feeling his stomach continue to twist and his lungs burn. "Of all people..." his own voice sounded far away as he shook his head."Never you, Merlin. I never expected that you, of all people would be so..." his fists clenched. "So selfish!"

Rage burst through his body once more and he struck out, sweeping his arms to scatter bottles, books and candles off the table. They fell with a clatter. Some bottles broke while others rolled away. The books rested on the floor with some with their pages knocked from them. The small candles lost their flame and lay harmlessly.

"Selfish?" Merlin shrank back.

"Selfish," Arthur repeated, feeling the burn of his own glare as he looked Merlin right in the eye. "Do you have any idea what's been happening in the real world, Merlin, while you've been chasing this... this... _monstrosity_!" It's almost as though Arthur can hear his father's voice coming from his mouth and he wonders if Merlin hears it too because he flinches back. "We have a battle to prepare for, so Lancelot spends all day on the training fields. He either has to be physically dragged away or carried when his body collapses because it can't take anymore. Gwen spends all day in Morgana's chambers. She locks herself in and won't let any of us near. I can hear her crying in there but there isn't anything I can do. All the while you've run off for..." The words refuse to leave his mouth, so Arthur can only gesture towards the ingredients and scribbled spells around them. When his arms drop, he leans heavily against the table again to steady himself. "If this were my father's rule, Merlin, you would have been dragged away to be burned alive without trial by now. Even I had a sworn duty to..." The lump in his throat suddenly jumped, causing Arthur to lurch forward. "I wouldn't have been able to do anything."

"This is your rule." Merlin's voice was small and afraid.

"And I'm not going to do anything," Arthur nodded and lifted his head. "Not if you stop this now, Merlin. There are more important things to do."

"I thought you cared about her," Merlin suddenly backed away and there was a thud as his back hit the wall. Suddenly he was angry and watched Arthur with a glare as he began to go around the table to Merlin's side. "I thought you loved her as well, Arthur. I thought that was what we all were."

"Merlin, you know I-"

"You don't care," Merlin interrupted, shaking his head. "It's just struck me. Lancelot exhausts himself, Gwen locks herself in Morgana's chambers, I'm trying to make things right again, but what about you? Saying there are more important things. How is it after everything you don't care?"

"I do care!" Arthur suddenly moved quickly, almost going through the table instead of around it and then he was against Merlin, putting almost all of his weight into holding him against the wall. Merlin still clutched the bowl, which hadn't spilled any of its content yet. "I haven't had the chance to grieve yet. I'm not allowed! The eyes of Camelot are always watching me and we have just returned from battle only to prepare to go back again. I can't grieve because I need to hold this kingdom up on my own shoulders otherwise we're all as good as dead."

Merlin's face scrunched up and he shrank back the half an inch which was available. "But I can help that. I keep trying to tell you, Arthur, I can make things right again."

Arthur's hard gaze went from Merlin, to the bowl of ashes which was still being clutched tightly and back again. He tried to reach out for it, but Merlin flinched away. Arthur bit his bottom lip hard and inhaled deeply through his nose. He wanted nothing more than to scream and shout at Merlin and bang his head against the wall because maybe that would knock some sense into him. Or at least knock him out so Merlin could get some rest. It was clear looking at Merlin, his shadowed eyes and the way his very body looked as though it were too heavy to hold up, that he hadn't slept for a long time again. But Arthur resisted all that. Instead he just spoke, concentrating hard to keep his voice lowered and steady. "It won't help, Merlin. Morgana..."

It hurt to even think about it. So how could he possibly say it?

Merlin shook his head again. "You don't understand magic."

"I understand people," Arthur said. "Enough to know that the Morgana you bring back won't be our Morgana. Not in its heart and mind. You can't bring that back. She's..." He suddenly felt something surge in his head, leaving him feeling dizzy. Arthur leaned forward, resting his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "She's... gone."

It stabbed at his heart to even utter it as quietly as he did. His head spun and his throat clenched in such a way he thought he was either going to be ill or stop breathing. Merlin was looking at him, horrified. He looked scared, like a child who had become lost and spent days screaming for his parents without success.

"Don't say that." Merlin's voice was small and broken.

"Even if you do succeed," Arthur reached out again and this time was able to take hold of the bowl's edge, although he didn't pull at it yet. "What you bring back won't be Morgana. Not the one we love. I think you know that, don't you?"

"I..." Merlin gazed down at Morgana's ashes, lying still in the wooden bowl. "I thought if there was the smallest chance..."

His words trailed off and Merlin allowed Arthur to gently pull the bowl from his arms and set it down on the table next to them. It was as though his very legs had been pulled away from him because then Merlin fell into Arthur, whose arms went around him to hold him up. Arthur felt Merlin start to shake against him, then the sobs came, loud and jagged as they tore from his throat.

"This... this is wrong," Merlin chocked out. "You can't... can't grieve yet. And here I am..."

"I don't care." Arthur rested one hand on the back of Merlin's head and squeezed his fingers, just a little, enough to let Merlin know he was there. "They'll be time later. I need to think of everyone else now. You know," Arthur felt his own lips briefly pull into a smile, although there was nothing to be happy about. He found himself looking up at the ceiling and felt the backs of his eyes burn with tears he wouldn't let fall. "When I think of stopping for it, I don't. It's almost as though I can hear her, telling me to stop being an idiot and get on with things. But perhaps I'm just grieving without realising and going mad because of it."

"I just wanted to help," Merlin mumbled into Arthur's chest. "I just wanted for all of us to be together and happy again. Just one more time, that's all. Why is that so wrong?"

Arthur didn't have an answer for that. It wasn't long before Merlin's body finally succumbed to the exhaustion inflicted upon it and he fell into a restless sleep. Arthur carried him up to the small bedroom, which was still a mess, and slept with him in the narrow bed, having to pull Merlin partly on top of him to make sure neither would fall off.

When Merlin woke, Arthur kept him occupied by having him make sleeping draughts. Neither Arthur nor Lancelot had been sleeping well and with the battle only days away they needed to be rested. He had Merlin make some for Gwen as well, knowing her heartbreak was keeping her from sleep and feared it would make her ill. While he was at it, Arthur also had Merlin make some for himself. If he wanted to accompany Arthur and Lancelot into battle again and fight for Morgana's sake then he would need to be rested too. Merlin did all Arthur asked of him.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Pairing:**

**Notes:** Poly, slash, femmeslash, major angst, violence, character death**,** some description of sexual activity, dub-con, slight blood-play, suicide. Future fic. Small spoilers for episode 1x01, 1x05, 1x08 and 1x12.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in connection with BBC's Merlin, nor do I make any money writing this fanfiction.

xxx

**We All Fall Down**

Part II

With no hesitation, Merlin did follow them into battle. Gwen hadn't wanted for him to do so. Arthur and Lancelot were the ones who had to fight, but Merlin had no such obligation. She said no such thing, but by just looking at her Merlin could see the conflict which waged as fiercely as any battle within her heart. Gwen didn't want for him to go, instead she wanted him to stay so that she would have somebody to turn to and a hand to squeeze when she was scared. But she knew why he wanted to go. It was for Morgana and if Gwen were able to she would have gone with them into battle just as easily.

The morning after Arthur found him and his attempt to revive Morgana, Merlin had performed what some may see as miracles. When he went out into the training fields, Lancelot willingly came away. When Gwen heard Merlin's voice, she opened the door to Morgana's chambers and let them in. Arthur threw Morgana's ashes from the window of her chambers and the wind caught it, taking her to places they wouldn't know.

The two armies met in the same place, but this time barely any men from Camelot fell. Merlin raged, becoming a monster to those who saw him. There were screams and shouts and groans and the clang of weapons all around him, but Merlin heard none of it. Instead he just heard the thunder of his own heartbeat and the rush of his own anger being pulled out from the very depths of his heart and towards those who had taken Morgana away. There that voice in the back of his head again, whispering about all the great powers his body held. They were powers which could build entire kingdoms and then destroy them with a lazy flick of his wrist, which could draw the tides to cover the lands, which could light fires to destroy everything within his path and so much more.

Merlin dug down deep into the darkness and found that power. He pulled it up and out, through the pain it brought which felt as though it were tearing his body apart from the inside. From somewhere far away, he could hear his own screams of an agony he hadn't thought to even exist. But he kept going. For Morgana's sake. He saw those who were of Camelot and protected them, not letting anybody else near then. He saw those of the Saxon army and struck them down. He tore at them, smeared their blood over the grass and scattered their limbs. They kept coming at him, many at a time with weapons drawn but they never touched him. Merlin didn't even have to see them. He just raised an arm and then they were flying only to be slammed down and have their skulls crushed. Merlin didn't stop. He couldn't. He didn't want to because of what they had done. Morgana had gone through so much pain in her life, never being granted solace for the family she had lost until years later. She had feared the powers inside her which were a part of her yet threatened her very life should they be discovered. Years later, when her powers were finally granted freedom, the nightmares still tormented her. Nothing changed. She kept feeling pain and fear and Merlin couldn't stand the thought of it.

The Saxon army was torn down, but Merlin didn't stop. He sliced their armour and their weapons to ensure they would never be used again. He ripped up their tents which lay over the hills and reduced their supplies to ashes. He struck down their horses, spilling their blood and burned their colours.

He hurt them and let them scream in terror before they died because she had been hurt and because she had been scared. He hurt them because they had taken Morgana and left nothing but pain. Arthur saw it as his duty to shield the rest of Camelot from harm and then he had found himself bent over Morgana's body. They were always the ones who argued the most, sniping at each other and Morgana took every opportunity to tease Arthur about his sword work. But they also cared for each other so dearly. Now she was gone, killed while meant to be under Arthur's care, or so he saw it, and he didn't know how he was supposed to even begin handling it. Gwen had lost the person who had always been there for her, who broke down the walls which were supposed to sit between mistress and maidservant to hold her hand and stroke her hair. Gwen loved them, just as much as they all loved her, but nothing would ever take Morgana's place in her heart. Nothing would ever be able to replace the ripped, cold gap. Much like Arthur, Lancelot blamed himself. Merlin had looked into his dreams once and found that Lancelot's deepest fear was to lose the ones he loved and have to go through the same chilling pain he had when he was a child. Now it had happened. He was living his nightmares.

Merlin kept raging, unable to stop. He purged everything that was not of Camelot or which didn't belonged to the battlefield itself. All around him he saw blood, burning and men being torn to shreds. There was something rushing all around him; his own power as he pulled up all of it to use. Black started to creep in all around him, but Merlin kept going. The pain was starting to leave. He couldn't hold up his arms anymore and they felt as though the bones inside them were shattered. Merlin wasn't even sure if he was still on his feet anymore, everything was just a maddening swirl of death and darkness all around him.

But he kept going. Because they had hurt her.

xxx

Camelot's army returned as the victors but there was not the slightest sound of celebration as they travelled back or when they arrived. Burned into their minds was the image which would live in them until the day they died. It was an image of Merlin as he became what would be whispered to be the devil himself. They would whisper cautiously, glancing over their shoulders, about how he had pulled up the wrath of hell and unleashed it upon their enemies in the most violent and vicious of ways. Many would also remember how he had screamed while he desperately tried to reach the burning body of Lady Morgana and be able to put two and two together. But those were things which weren't spoken about above anything more than a whisper because nobody dared.

Lancelot was the only one who remained behind after the battle was done. For days he didn't count, he searched the battlefield and the lands surrounding it over and over again. He turned every leaf, every stone and every blade of grass. But no trace of Merlin was ever found.

xxx

There was a sting which rushed through Arthur's arm and burst in his chest as he struck Lancelot hard. The grunt of pain which followed was from Arthur's own mouth as he leaned his weight forward a little more. Arthur's beating had driven Lancelot down to the floor of the king's chambers and there he lay. Arthur was bent over him, straddling him and he held Lancelot down with one hand on his shoulder. But there was really no need for that. Lancelot didn't make even the slightest attempt to get away. He didn't resist at all, he didn't cry out, he didn't spit the blood from his mouth, he didn't even narrow his eyes. Instead he just lay on the ground beneath Arthur. One of his eyes was forced shut with the damage it had received from Arthur's strikes, there was a gash on his forehead and his bottom lip was split. His head was turned to the left, forced that way by Arthur's hand with such force there was a moment where Arthur thought Lancelot's neck would snap.

Lancelot didn't even look at Arthur. He just gazed ahead of him, as though he were lost. And he was, Arthur knew it. When he looked down at Lancelot, Arthur could see the pain and the guilt which came with the loss of Morgana and the Merlin. It filled every part of him and so much Arthur found himself surprised Lancelot had not suffocated and drowned within it.

When he looked down at Lancelot, in so much pain and so guilt-ridden, Arthur saw what was in himself and could feel it driving him mad.

"Why didn't you save them?" Arthur screamed again, not sure who he was aiming the question at anymore. He was Camelot's king. It was his duty to make sure everybody remained safe. But... "Isn't that why you wanted to become a knight so much? To protect people? You can't even protect those you claim to love."

He struck Lancelot again, forcing his head to the right and watched as more blood began to well on his lips and slowly start to trickle down his chin. Again, the cry of pain came from Arthur and Lancelot remained unresponsive. Just staring ahead of him, lost.

Arthur raised his hand again, but kept it up in the air. He kept seeing fire in front of his eyes, shown to him by the memories which rushed around his head. He saw the flames which had slowly consumed Morgana's body and the beast from hell Merlin had become as the agony of loss and the lust for revenge had taken him. It was now Arthur who didn't sleep anymore because he was afraid of seeing those things. Each time his eyes closed, when he dozed lightly or even when he blinked, he saw those fires which had torn apart Morgana's and Merlin's bodies. He heard their screams echoing from somewhere in the back of his head and would open his eyes again, unable to breathe and with sweat on his body, as though he had been near those fires himself.

The arm he had raised in the air began to shake and Arthur drew it down again, resting it on Lancelot's other shoulder. He hung his head and then his body collapsed, falling over Lancelot and Arthur lay there.

"Why did this happen?" he asked, feeling the heat of his own breath against Lancelot's neck. He spoke quietly, but it still sounded too loud. "Why couldn't they be saved?"

Lancelot moved then, raising his arms and resting them over Arthur's back.

To be in Lancelot's arms had always been to be safe. It was the place where it was okay to fall apart, so Arthur did. His body shook violently and the inside of his throat was scratched raw as he screamed, trying but failing to ease some of the pain which was slowly crushing his chest.

"How is it pain like this exists?" Arthur questioned, clawing at Lancelot's hair and pushing his face into his shoulder. "What I wouldn't give to have them back."

"If it's me you need to give," Lancelot finally spoke with a voice which sounded sore and cracked. "Then do so."

"No!" Arthur gripped his fingers where he still clutched Lancelot's hair, pulling hard. "I shall never give you. Or Gwen. It needs to be all of us. That's how we were happy."

At the mention of her name, Arthur's mind turned to Gwen. She was alone right now, most likely in Morgana's chambers again. The thought of her alone and hurting was something Arthur could hardly bare, but he would not let her see him falling apart like this and Lancelot bleeding on the floor. He would not have her see his pain as well.

"I'm sorry." Lancelot apologised, but Arthur didn't know what for. For the suggestion he made? That he hadn't found Merlin? That he hadn't been able to save them? All of it?

Arthur felt Lancelot's kiss brush against his forehead and lifted himself up. He steadied his balance by leaning one hand down on Lancelot's shoulder again and gripped the back of his head with the other. His mind buzzed, his body still trembled and Arthur was barely aware of what he was doing. He tasted the copper tang of blood on his tongue as he bit Lancelot's lips, then licked and kissed at the wounds he inflicted.

But finally he was getting reactions. Arthur drew soft groans from Lancelot when he bit as his lips and neck and dragged his nails over his skin. When he closed his eyes, Arthur could feel Lancelot's body underneath him and was almost able to pretend that things were okay. But the loss crushing his chest was too painful, so fooling himself entirely was impossible.

xxx

There had been a time when Gwen was fearful of entering the king's chambers. That had been when Arthur was thrust onto the throne by his father's death and she was still a maidservant, invisible to those who carried titles. Even when she became queen, she kept up the habit of knocking, despite constantly being told she didn't have to and knowing that if Arthur was doing anything with anybody on the other side of the door it was nothing she hadn't seen before or wouldn't be invited into.

But now she was stood with one hand raised and her knuckles brushing against the fine wood, feeling unsteady with the painful knot of nerves which twisted in her stomach. She knew they were both on the other side of that door. Arthur was able to keep his shoulders back and his head up, but she knew all he wanted to do was fall underneath the weight of Morgana's and Merlin's death. Lancelot wouldn't leave him like that. Especially as it was Gwen herself who had told him to stay with Arthur. He hadn't wanted to leave her either and it was only through her insistence that he did. She loved them both to the point where it hurt to be away from them for too long. But that night she felt she had wanted to be alone; just her and the familiarity of Morgana's chambers. There were good memories in there. Ones which made her head feel light and thump with pain as she sobbed, but good ones all the same.

Gwen tried to swallow but both her mouth and throat were too dry. She tried to listen again for any noise in the king's chambers, but her heart was hammering too loud. It was strange that there should be nothing. Lancelot at least would have been awake for a while by now.

It was the one time Gwen didn't knock but she barely noticed that little detail. She opened the door slowly and peered around it. Lancelot was awake, bent over Arthur's sleeping form, and when he looked towards the sound of the door opening there was half a second when Gwen saw how viciously protective he could be. Then he seemed to recognise her in the shadows of the doorway and it vanished.

"Guinevere? I'm sorry, my lady, I can barely see you."

As she stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind her, there was a pain in her chest as her breath hitched. She was beginning to see what state Lancelot was in. One eye was forced shut and the other was more closed than it was open. His lips were swollen and split, there was a gash on his forehead and blood had dried around his nose and mouth. Her eyes fell down the rest of his body, to where the sheets rested just above his hips, and saw how riddled he was with bruises, bites and scratch marks. Both Arthur's and Lancelot's clothes had clearly been left wherever they fell on the ground. Lancelot's were torn and blood-stained.

"Lancelot..." Gwen felt herself sway a little on her feet and leaned back against the door with her hands pressed over her mouth. Then she lurched herself forward, partly stumbling, mostly hurrying to his side. She sat down next to him and couldn't help but notice the smears of blood on the bed sheets as well. All Lancelot's. Arthur didn't seem to have a single fresh wound on him. Gwen reached out towards the gash on Lancelot's forehead but didn't touch it. Instead her hand remained quivering where she held it in the air. "Arthur did this?" She had to force the words out because she just couldn't believe them. Gwen had been proud to watch Arthur grow into the man he was but there were still parts of his old self, of Prince Arthur, which remained inside him. Sometimes he could be brash and didn't always think things through, but he still tried to do what was best. Arthur had never harmed anybody he loved before. Not purposefully and certainly not physically.

Gwen looked around, but there was no sign of drink anywhere. Just Lancelot and his injuries.

"It's okay." Lancelot took her hand and brought it down to hold between them on the bed sheets. He tried to smile but winced. "It probably looks bad, but I've had so much worse."

"When you've come back from the battlefield," Gwen said. Instinctively, she clutched his hand and saw how his lips thinned in discomfort so she loosened her grip. "But this... this is..."

"Is fine," he finished for her, but it wasn't the answer Gwen wanted. "Arthur has no idea how to handle what happened. I'm not entirely sure myself. He-" Lancelot looked over to where Arthur slept, as did Gwen. "He's in a lot of pain."

"So am I!" There weren't many times when Gwen felt her patience thinning and she had been able to just bite her lip and let frustration simmer away quietly before. But now it felt as though Lancelot was trying to shield her against something which had already hit. "I'm in pain as well, Lancelot, but I wouldn't do..." She looked him up and down, trying to find the right word and settled on; "this!"

"But I would allow you to," Lancelot said. "If inflicting pain upon me helped to ease your own, even in the slightest, I would always allow it."

He was deadly serious and Gwen knew it. She could now see why Lancelot had endured so much from Arthur. Gwen also knew it was something he wouldn't change his mind about, even if she were to fall to her knees, cry and beg. In Lancelot's mind, he was the one who had to protect everybody. He was the one who had to take their pain and their burden upon his shoulders and still stand. In his eyes, it was his duty and there was no alternative.

The thought of it made tears well in Gwen's eyes.

"I'll..." her voice sounded shaky with tears, so she tried clearing her throat. It didn't help much. "I'll go and get you some fresh clothes, okay?" She gave Lancelot's hand a last squeeze, as gentle as she could, then stood up. "And some water to clean you up."

"You don't have to."

"I do," she said, hurrying for the door. "If it's anybody but me, Lancelot, we'd uncover what we've always been so careful to hide. Besides, I know where to get everything. Let me do this."

She opened the door and left without waiting for any further disagreement. But there was none, just a gentle thanks before she shut the door behind her. As Gwen hurried around, fetching what she had said she would, people stopped and looked back to make sure they had really seen the queen of Camelot carrying out the tasks of a servant girl. Nobody questioned her, although some whispered amongst themselves about what she had been. Once a maid, always a maid, no matter what dress she may wear.

Gwen heard some of those whispers, although she was sure she hadn't been supposed to. She paid them no mind because she didn't have time to. Instead she put most of her concentration into her task and the rest into chasing away the tears still in her eyes.

xxx

As Arthur woke he was drowsy and couldn't open his eyes right away. The last veils of sleep slowly pulled themselves away and he started to realise that the soft noise of lapping water which had snuck into his dreams of fire weren't of his dreams at all. Before he did anything else, Arthur stretched the muscles in his arms and felt a dull ache in them.

He rolled over, sat himself up and then saw Gwen sitting on a chair at the other side of his bed with a bowl of water on her lap and a red cloth in her hand. No. Arthur was becoming more alert now and he could see that the cloth was not red. It was blood stained.

Then he was suddenly hit with what was before his eyes. Gwen was sat with a bowl of water on her lap and a worried expression on her face as she turned to him. The cloth in her hand was blood stained because she was gently pressing and wiping it against the wounds on Lancelot's body. When Arthur saw them, so many scratches and bruises and bite marks, he felt all the air get knocked from his lungs and his throat burn as his stomach lurched.

"Lancelot?"

Lancelot turned his head when Arthur spoke his name and more damage was revealed. Arthur saw that one of Lancelot's eyes was open but only barely and the blood dried around his mouth. And all at his hands.

"I did this." Arthur could barely force out the words and they came as a harsh whisper, scratching against his throat as they did. He wanted to reach out and touch against the bite marks on Lancelot's neck and the swelling around his eye. But that would mean acceptance of what he had done and Arthur could hardly bare to face it.

But he could remember it. The sight of Lancelot's injuries and the cloth stained with his blood suddenly brought it all flooding back, raiding his mind. Arthur could remember the way he had struck Lancelot, forcing his head to one side and then the next as he screamed the same questions again and again. Always asking why Morgana and Merlin had to die and why they couldn't be saved. He could remember biting Lancelot's lips as he kissed him hard. He remembered digging his fingernails as deeply into Lancelot's skin as he could, wherever his hands landed, and dragging them down. He could remember biting Lancelot's neck and then twisting his head to make the wound deeper and worse. He remembered Lancelot's body underneath him, knowing how to make him move and groan and grit his teeth.

Most of all he remembered how Lancelot had not said one word or made the slightest move against it. If he had, perhaps Arthur would have stopped. No, Arthur thought as he shook his head, why didn't he stop himself? He didn't remember having a single coherent thought.

"I did this," Arthur repeated and this time the words fell from his mouth. He saw Gwen squeeze the cloth to wring it out particularly hard and her knuckles paled. Some of Lancelot's blood stained her fingers. "Lancelot" Arthur's stomach still twisted and burned and he wished it would just empty and relieve him of that. But, of course, it wouldn't. "Tell me, can you ever forgive me?"

Lancelot smiled and Arthur could see it pained him to do so. "I never blamed you."

Arthur exchanged glances with Gwen and he didn't know who he hated more; Lancelot or himself. Lancelot's gallantry was his very heart, which took some getting used to at times. Even so, Arthur realised he hadn't expected to wake up with Lancelot still there. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised if he had woken to find Lancelot wasn't even still in Camelot.

The thought made Arthur's breath catch painfully in his lungs.

"You should stay here today and get your strength back," Arthur said, then reached over and placed his hand on Lancelot's shoulder when it looked as though he was about to object. "You can't walk around Camelot looking like that. If I have to make it an order, Lancelot, I shall."

Gwen looked approving through her worry. Lancelot nodded.

xxx

From that moment they were hardly ever apart. They walked Camelot's ground with just enough distance between them to be acceptable but there was an air of change about them. There was something heavy which hung above them and slowly seeped down endlessly onto their shoulders. Many who saw them walking together with grim downturns to their mouths and haunted eyes were able to recognise that this change had come after the return of Camelot's army from their last battle. That battle where all the soldiers had returned to speak in hushed voices of how Merlin, that lanky man with black hair who was often seen at King Arthur's side, had become possessed by the demons of hell and crushed their enemy, who had thrown him into despair through the killing of the Lady Morgana on the battlefield.

Should a sword hang at the side of King Arthur or Sir Lancelot, many also saw the two scraps of cloth, one green and one red, tied around the hilt. Some guessed it must be a token towards the fallen Lady Morgana and Merlin. Nobody saw that Queen Guinevere tied a green and red piece of cloth around her wrist underneath her sleeve.

They couldn't stay together all the time, neither all together or in pairs. There were issues of the court to deal with, knights to train and other such things. When night began to fall and during the moments when everybody else was turned away, they united again in the king's chambers.

Gwen was mostly relieved when she could lay between Arthur and Lancelot again. She didn't go to Morgana's chambers anymore. The sword wrapped in the cloth of her tunic had been propped up against the wall since the day after they had returned from battle with news of her death. When Gwen lay in there, that voice, the same one which had manipulated Morgana's mouth, would reach her ears and she was sure it was coming from that sword. It kept speaking of twisted and cold things to her. It told her all about how things were starting to fall apart. Soon they would crumble completely and then Camelot, completely gone from their minds, would be as good as gone. They were all trying hard to keep things together, the voice knew that, but they were failing and in their hearts the three of them knew it. Now that Merlin was gone there was no hope. Because hadn't it been Merlin who had brought them together in the first place? Merlin was the one who had stood up to Arthur. Merlin was the one who had caught Gwen's eye and her affections. Merlin was the one who had befriended Morgana and broken down another barrier between Lady and servant. Merlin was the one who had brought Lancelot to Camelot and helped him become a knight the first time round, even if only for a few hours. Without Merlin, they wouldn't have become who and what they were. Now he was gone and all hope was lost. They were tangled in destiny's web and there was no hope of escaping from it. It would continue to bind them, slowly, and choke them. Not long now.

Finally Gwen hadn't been able to stand it and retreated to Arthur's chambers, where she knew he would be with Lancelot. There she would at least be able to fall into her nightmares of forever reaching out to Morgana and Merlin with the feeling of their arms around her. Their touches were so gentle. They always had been, but since Gwen had opened the door to Arthur's chambers and found Lancelot with such injuries on his body she felt as though she were being handled as though made of the most fragile glass. Most of that came from Arthur. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin and then come down to rest and he would try to resist pushing down too much. The use of his tongue felt as though he had gone back to being unsure in an echo of how he was years ago, although he had never admitted to it. Gwen might call his kisses tender if she weren't able to feel how cracked and dry his lips often were. Lancelot had always been gentle towards her, but there were very noticeable differences in his caution and the way he touched her as well. She knew their thoughts kept going to Merlin and Morgana and then back to her. Gwen's did the same thing.

The embrace between Arthur and Lancelot was much more violent than Gwen remembered it ever being. It was like watching men turn into monsters. She saw Arthur drag his fingernails over Lancelot's chest to leave angry red trails, leave bite marks on his neck and swell his lips with rough kisses and scraping teeth. While their hips were pressed together, Arthur growled orders for Lancelot to bite him, right where his shoulder and neck met. Every time Gwen saw a flash of reluctance in Lancelot, but he always obeyed; sinking his teeth into Arthur's flesh and twisting his head as instructed, making the wound worse and causing it to bleed more. Then Arthur would yank Lancelot away and lick the blood from his lips and tongue.

It was Lancelot who still bore the most marks on his body. There might be a bite on his neck, only just hidden by his collar, scratches crossing his chest under his shirt and small cuts on his fingers being irritated by his gloves. He never resisted at all, something both Gwen and Arthur noticed.

There was one night where Arthur had tested that. He took a blade into bed with him and ran its point over Lancelot's skin, slowly tracing patterns and drawing blood. But there was still no sign or word of resistance from Lancelot, not even when Arthur started to press it down over his heart. He even tilted his head to expose his neck while Gwen sat and watched, clutching the sheets up in front of herself as the only shield she had. Her movements were frozen except her heart, which hammered in terror.

That was the only night that happened.

She was always scared when she watched them together. In every movement they made and every look they gave, she could see how much they still loved each other. But she also saw how heartbroken they both were and knew she was feeling exactly the same. Gwen often woke up with her eyes swollen as the consequence of falling asleep while crying.

One afternoon during summer, when the heat of the day was beginning of pass, Gwen strode through the castle, looking for Arthur and knowing where to find him. She hitched her skirt up as she went up the staircase which would lead out to the highest battlements of the castle. They were often used as a look-out post, but Gwen knew Arthur had dismissed the guards for a while. It was an isolated place, where the land could be seen for miles and there was something about that which brought Arthur some peace, even if only for a moment.

Indeed she did find him there and cleared her throat from where she stood in the doorway to get his attention. When he turned to her, a small smile appeared on his face, which she felt spread to her. It was only for a moment, but felt good. They didn't smile much anymore.

"Are you okay?" Gwen asked as she approached him. The answer was no and had been for a while, but she always asked anyway. Both Arthur and Lancelot lied and told her yes, which she accepted. When she was by Arthur's side, he allowed her to link her arm with his.

"I was watching him," Arthur nodded down to the right. When Gwen looked, she could see Lancelot instructed a trainee, who was swinging a sword as a straw dummy. It was something for him to do, something to keep his mind busy. "All the things I do to him, Gwen, all the horrible things. It's always a wonder when I wake up and he's still there. It's a wonder he didn't flee a long time ago."

Gwen was silent for a moment, thinking over what she had just been told. But, try as she might, she couldn't make sense of it. "You want him to leave?"

"He wouldn't," Arthur said with a small shake of his head. "It's the only order of mine he would disobey. I could slaughter him, carve his body into the smallest pieces and scatter them throughout the furthest lands. But his spirit would still find a way back to me. He's so foolishly loyal it blinds him to everything else."

"He loves you so much!" Gwen pulled her arm away from Arthur and stepped back. She was suddenly angry, which made her head swirl and her stomach feel ill because she didn't understand what Arthur was saying. "He's been devoted to you ever since he first stepped on Camelot's ground. If that makes him a fool then so am I!"

Arthur turned his attention away from Lancelot and looked to her. There was something in his eyes which made Gwen shiver. It was something which tried to be distant and cold but didn't quite succeed.

"So am I," he said. "I was a fool to allow myself to get dragged into all of this. Just look at where it's ended for all of us." A smile flickered over his face and Gwen didn't like it. "In the bigger picture, perhaps it would have been better for Merlin to have left me to that hag's blade all those years ago. That way none of this would have ever happened."

Arthur's cold words felt like a hard punch right to Gwen's stomach. Her hands bunched into tight fists and she felt them stiffly at her sides, starting to tremble.

"How can you say those things? Regret what we are and everything we've gone through?" A part of Gwen wanted Lancelot up there with them, so she would have somebody to lean against because she could feel her legs shaking while her head swirled. But another part was glad he was away and out of ear-shot. With all the horrible changes which had already come to pass, she worried that to hear Arthur saying such things would cause Lancelot to draw his sword.

"None of us ever did anything they didn't want." She continued with her voice down anyway. "And if they had to, they would have the rest of us behind them. One of us is all of us, isn't that what you said?"

Arthur's head was titled back and he gazed up at the sky. For a moment Gwen wasn't sure if he was even listening, then she looked again and saw how thoughtful he appeared. As she watched, his eyes suddenly glazed over and then tears fell from his eyes. Without any other warning, Arthur's knees buckled underneath him and he fell, only just missing hitting his head against the merlons, which he pressed his forehead against as he hunched over as though in pain. He was. It tore through his body, crushed his bones, smashed his lungs and shredded his heart.

Gwen rushed to Arthur's side and knelt beside him. Regretting every word she had said and every action she had made, she gathered him in her arms.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, running her fingers through his hair with one hand and pressing the palm of the other into his shoulder.

"No." Arthur reached and gripped at her arms. When he raised his head, she saw the tears coming from his eyes and knew she was looking at a man who had been broken for a long time, still standing only through some cruel miracle. He had tried to pretend he was fixed. Now it was all falling apart. "Don't apologise, Gwen. Don't ever apologise. It was never you. Always me."

He fell forward, into her chest and partly into her lap, and pushed his face against her neck, hiding it in the hair she allowed to fall down. Arthur held her arms as tightly as she knew he dared. His hands were shaking. His whole body was and she could feel it against her.

Both Arthur and Lancelot were the ones who wanted all the blame. They were the fighters, whose swords were as much a part of them as their own arms. As the ones who wore Camelot's armour and faced their enemies, they were the ones who felt they had to protect the things precious to them. They were supposed to give their lives before harm came to those they loved, yet here they were still alive while Merlin and Morgana were dead. Loss was something they feared and now those nightmares were reality.

Gwen held Arthur tightly until evening began to fall. She kept the fingers of one hand threaded through his hair and the other over his back, clutching his shoulder. The shirt on his back was dotted with her tears as she felt herself slowly falling away in her mind. For so long she had shut herself away in Morgana's chambers and kept fresh flowers inside it. Then she had cleaned away the blood from Lancelot's body and picked up a needle and thread to fix any clothes which became torn.

They were trying to protect her but it was too late. It had been too late ever since they had returned from battle with the news that Morgana had fallen. Arthur and Lancelot had never been able to defend her from what had already happened and she wondered if, somewhere inside them, they knew it but would never accept it. They tried so hard and it was when she was holding Arthur in his grief on that highest tower when she realised their own desire to protect her had made them blind to what was before their very eyes. She wasn't okay, not with any of it. It wasn't okay that Morgana and Merlin were gone. It wasn't okay that they were left behind and had to try and carry on with things as normal. It wasn't okay that Arthur hurt Lancelot or that Lancelot accepted it so easily.

All this had happened because she had told Morgana to follow them into battle, if that was what she wanted. It was her own fault, Gwen realised. If only she had told Morgana to stay...

Gwen wasn't okay. She wasn't okay at all and she felt sick in her throat as she realised she wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to last.

xxx

No matter how much Lancelot thought back, he couldn't recall any warning, not even in the slightest, that Gwen might suddenly vanish the way she did. They had woken one morning and she was just gone, along with, it was found later, one of her old dresses. They hadn't known she had kept those. Since Morgana fell, Gwen's heart had been broken. That was the case for all of them, but it had clearly hit Gwen hardest. She stayed close to them whenever she could, needing to know they were still there.

Then she had just gone. Arthur and Lancelot had gone out to find her, searching every land they came across and coming dangerously close to starting wars by crossing boarders and demanding if others even vaguely thought they may have glimpsed her. But they came back without any success, pulled back to Camelot by duty.

Lancelot knew he could leave again and keep searching but he was torn. He wanted to find Gwen and bring her back more than anything, but he feared what may happen should he leave Arthur by himself for too long.

He stood on the battlements, unable to be at Arthur's side at that moment due to an overview of land treaties. Arthur had told him to go and rest but Lancelot was unable to. With sleep came dreams and in those dreams he saw them, with fear in their eyes and blood coming from their mouths when they tried to scream. They reached out to him, begging for Lancelot to come and save them this time, but he never could. Every time they were snatched away just when he nearly had them.

So instead he looked down at the crowd bustling around the market stalls, living their own lives. Camelot knew something was wrong with its king. Lancelot heard the end of hushed whispers which were full of doubt and perhaps carried hints of treason, often from those who still bore a grudge against Uther Pendragon and saw him live on in Arthur's blood. Lancelot never heard those whisperings enough to be certain of them because they would see him and hurry away with bowed heads. Should he ever hear words of treason against Arthur and was certain of them, Lancelot would run his sword through their stomachs. Those who spoke in hushed voices seemed to know that as well.

"Sir Lancelot." A voice called his name and Lancelot turned towards it.

"Sir Sagramore," he nodded in recognition then turned his attention back to the crowds below. He didn't focus on anything in particular, just let things pass unnoticed before his eyes.

"It's a rare occasion for you to be by yourself," Sagramore said, standing beside Lancelot and glancing out to the crowds himself. "You're by King Arthur's side so much I'd swear you'd become joined at the hip sometimes."

"That's just the way it is these days."

"And maybe I wouldn't notice it as much as I do. You were always very close to them."

Lancelot tilted his head just enough to glance at Sagramore through the corner of his eye, who was watching him carefully. He appeared to be picking his words carefully and that held Lancelot's interest.

"But Sir Maleagant has been speaking of you lately," Sagramore continued. "He's been speaking a lot of how close you seem to be with King Arthur and how you were with Queen Guinevere as well. Before she vanished, it was often the three of you together a lot," Sagramore paused again and frowned at his feet. Lancelot turned around a little more to look at him properly. "Maleagant is starting to spread rumours of twisted things between the three of you and how it came about since the deaths of Lady Morgana and Merlin."

"Maleagant has hated me and my being amongst the knighthood since he knew I was not of noble blood. 'Common as the dirt' were his words, if I recall." Lancelot turned back to watch the crowd again. He supposed he should be feeling angry, but he didn't. He didn't feel much of anything anymore. "Anything which comes from his mouth is of no concern."

"It should be if people start listening to him. And, the thing is Lancelot, your bed doesn't look as though it's been slept in for a long time," Sagramore reached out and pulled at Lancelot's arm, but he kept looking down. "There is already doubt starting to grow in some. Something like this may turn it into active treason."

"It won't." Even so, Lancelot's hand went to rest on the hilt of his sword and his fingers wound into the green and red cloth tied to it. He might tie something of Gwen's to his sword as well, but that would mean admitting she was really gone. "There are many of them."

"They will seem even more if Maleagant's words get to them and their doubt turns to the sort of panic which causes riot."

"Even if they did, even if the whole of Camelot surrounded us, it would still feel too lonely."

Sagramore's grip on Lancelot's arm loosened, then he let go. "I don't understand."

Lancelot walked away without giving any explanation.

xxx

That evening, Arthur was back amongst the highest torrents again. He stood on top of a raised merlon with the tips of his boots hanging just over the edge. In the distance was a small strip of blue sky, all which remained of the rapidly vanishing daylight. Above him, stars were beginning to dot the heavens. The wind blew around him, ruffling his hair and billowing his clothes around his body. It was a teasing kind of wind, the type which almost felt it could blow Arthur off the tower and down to the hard ground far below.

As Arthur stood, as though he were on top of the world, he felt defeated. Nearly everything he had kept close was now lost and he could feel the rest of Camelot slipping away from his grasping fingers. There was something tightly knotted in his chest and it was so painful he had passed the days since Morgana's death feeling as though he would die himself.

On the horizon, more stars began to twinkle. They were like Morgana's eyes and the spark which lit up inside them when she teased Arthur, making constant reference to the number of times he had ended up on his backside when practicing with her. The glow of the last sunlight was like Gwen's face when she smiled. It was a gesture he always found himself mirroring, even if only in the slightest and for the quickest moment, even in his most foul moods. Arthur could see the leaves of the trees moving with the wind. It was Merlin's touch, the type which was gentle but Arthur always knew it was there.

They were happy and they were smiling. All three of them. Arthur allowed his eyes to go out of focus and he could see them in the stars. Their fingers were linked and they were laughing. Sometimes they would look at him and when their mouths moved Arthur could see his name being formed. They were calling for him. It was too lonely where Arthur was.

"Lancelot, you'll stay with us, won't you?" Arthur didn't turn his head as he spoke to Lancelot, who stood a few paces behind him. He kept his eyes on Merlin, Gwen and Morgana as they laughed with each other amongst the stars and reached out to him. If he looked away, even for a second, they would be lost forever. "Wherever we go, you'll follow. It needs to be all of us together."

"I'll always stay with you, just as I promised," came Lancelot's reply. "Until the day I die."

Lancelot had said that before and Arthur had grabbed his shoulders as tightly as he could and told him not to say those things. They had been said to Arthur before. But this time Arthur didn't feel angry about it. Instead he felt relieved.

"I knew you would."

Merlin, Gwen and Morgana were reaching out to him so Arthur walked towards them.

xxx

When Lancelot watched Arthur walk off the tower, he didn't make a single move to try and stop him. Instead he followed him. Just as he always promised he would.

_**END**_


End file.
